


Check

by duustbunny



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Autofellatio, Awkwardness, Facials, Fuck Or Die, Ice Play, M/M, Medical Kink, Pseudo-Incest, Threesome - M/M/M, Wincestiel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-14
Updated: 2016-01-14
Packaged: 2018-05-13 23:26:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5720968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/duustbunny/pseuds/duustbunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel is exhibiting a series of symptoms that make Dean suspect a sex curse. It’s up to him and Sam to carry out a more thorough examination.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Check

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a prompt on the Supernatural Kink Meme community, December '15: 
> 
>  
> 
> _Castiel has hurt himself and has to take a draught that makes him rather horny or he eats something on a hunt and reacts to that instead. Either way he goes to Dean, telling him he's burning up and that his hole is swolloen (it's true, Castiel has checked.)_
> 
>  
> 
> _Dean really hopes it's just a fuck-or-die situation and tries to do the tests for it because yes they've tests for that kind of thing. It's always possible the effect might fade after 24 hours. Sadly the results aren't very clear and so Dean goes to Sam who is the expert. Mostly because he does so most research and most fuck-or-die victims prefer Sam for some kind of reasons._  
>  _It ends with Sam inspecting Castiel's hole, having to finger him deep the reach the prostate, using ice cubes and a thermometer maybe. All while Dean holds Castiel down / holds the legs apart for Sam._
> 
>  
> 
> _Up to you how it ends but HUGE bonus if Dean starts begging Sam to give in to Castiel's pleas :)_
> 
>  
> 
> ***

Dean pulls the thermometer from under Castiel’s arm and checks it.

“Yep, you’re burning up. The joys of being human, eh Cas?”

Castiel just frowns deeper without bothering to open his eyes.

“Maybe you caught the flu or something. Perhaps a stomach bug. Do you feel nauseous? Or got, uh... you know... diarrhea?”

“ _No,_ ” Castiel replies, sounding offended by the mere idea.

“Okay. Any other symptoms apart from the temperature?”

Castiel’s fever flush deepens and he turns his head away, eyes still closed.

“Cas, I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.”

No reply.

“Whatever you’re going through, I’ve probably gone through at some point in my life, too.” Dean smiles and adds, “I’ve been human for a long time, you know.” 

Castiel cautiously opens his eyes and looks at him, an assessing look on his face. Dean crosses his arms and waits for him to make up his mind. Then finally the former angel draws a deep breath and speaks. “Certain parts of my body are... throbbing.”

“Throbbing?”

“Pulsating painfully along with my heartbeat. And swollen.” He looks away again. “I checked.”

Dean perches himself on the armrest of the couch Castiel is sitting on, worried. “This doesn’t sound good, Cas. Is it something inside you?” Castiel flinches almost imperceptibly at that. “Like your liver or something? Where does it hurt?”

“It’s my anus.”

Dean springs from the couch as if it had caught fire. “A-- anus?” 

“ _Yes_.” Castiel sounds done with the conversation. Dean wants to be done with it too, of course, but the whole thing triggers his hunting instincts in a way he can’t ignore. 

“Uh, Cas... I know I said that whatever you’re going through I’ve gone through too, but... this isn’t a normal human illness. I think it might be a curse.”

“A curse?”

“Yeah, a sex curse. Like a fuck-or-die curse.”

“I haven’t left the bunker in a week, Dean. And I haven’t touched any out-of-the-ordinary objects in here, either.”

“These things can be done remotely. Awful stuff, sex curses. Well, only one way to find out.”

Castiel looks up at him questioningly. 

“We gotta test you.”

“Test me?”

“Of course. There are tests for these things. I dunno, Sam knows more about it, he’s usually the one to, um, perform them. Most sex curses fade within a day or two but some can be pretty dangerous. Better safe than sorry.”

***

Dean fiddles with the thermometer outside of Castiel’s bedroom. Raised voices filter through the closed door, words unclear. He’s about to knock when the door opens. Sam is standing at the threshold with a sheen of sweat on his face, hair looking like a long-abandoned bird nest. 

“He just won’t stay still, Dean,” his brother says as he pulls off a glistening latex glove from his hand. 

Dean looks behind Sam and into the room. Cas is sitting on the bed, chin to chest like a guilty child. His white shirt is wrinkled and sweaty under the arms, lower body covered by the bed sheets.

“We could tie him down,” Dean suggests. Cas looks up at that, and Dean can see how wrecked his face looks. 

“That’s a bit drastic,” Sam says, tossing the glove into the trash can in the corner of the room. “I was thinking something more like you holding his hand or something.”

“What?”

“Maybe it’ll help him relax. You know, since you and him share a _profound bond_.”

Dean points a finger directly at his brother’s face. “Shut up.”

“Seriously, Dean, I think it might help if you were here.”

“No, Sammy, no. You are the one who always deals with this stuff. I’ve got nothing to do here.”

“Please, Dean, just sit next to him and help him keep still, is all. I can’t do it with him squirming all over the bed. He tenses up and--”

“No details!” Dean shouts before Sam can finish the sentence. It’s a reflex, really, because in truth he _would_ like to know the details. He glances at Cas to make sure he’s all right with Sam’s suggestion, but the former angel is looking down again. Dean sighs. “Okay. What do you need me to do?”

Sam moves back into the room and grabs a fresh latex glove and the bottle of lube sitting on the nightstand. “Sit on the bed and talk to him, help him loosen up.” He turns to Castiel. “Cas, lie back down, will you?”

Dean approaches the bed and slowly sits on the edge opposite where Sam is standing, leaving plenty of room for Cas who is sliding down into a horizontal position. Cas lies on his right side, front to Dean and back to Sam, and under the bed sheets Dean can see him raise his knees until they almost touch his chest. He tries not to make eye contact.

“Okay, Cas,” Sam says as he lifts the sheet with his non-gloved hand. Dean hastily looks away, eyes landing on Cas’ face. “I need you to relax now. You can hold Dean’s hand if you want... or whatever. Remember to push out, not clench, all right? I’m going in now.”

Castiel’s face scrunches up and his eyes screw shut. His hand reaches out blindly toward Dean, and Dean, enraptured by the expressions on the other man’s face that tell him exactly what his brother is doing, takes it. Cas squeezes him hard. 

Behind him, Sam sighs. “It’s not working.”

Dean knows the second his brother pulls out because Cas releases the breath he’s holding and his iron grip on Dean’s hand loosens.

“What’s the matter, Cas?” Dean asks. “Sam being too rough on you?”

Castiel winces and sits back up, pulling the sheets with him. “No. But the procedure is... uncomfortable.” 

“Maybe it’s the position,” Dean suggests, half joke, half shot in the dark. 

“You wanna try on your hands and knees?” Sam asks Cas.

“ _No._ ”

“On your back?”

This time Castiel only shakes his head. 

“Then what do you suggest?” 

“Maybe...” Cas trails off, then clears his throat (a habit he acquired after a few months of humanity) and tries again. “I can’t control my v-- my body’s reactions if I can’t see them coming.” 

“I told you when I was about to go in, every time.”

Cas opens his mouth as if about to say something, shoulders lifting in the way they do when he’s got no helpful answer.

“You mean,” Dean asks, “you could keep still and, you know, relaxed if you could see what Sam’s doing?” 

The former angel is silent once more. It’s not a yes, but it’s also not a no.

“Worth a shot,” Dean decides.

Sam stands up and pulls his glove off. “Okay. Help him out, will you, Dean? I’m gonna go get some ice.”

“Ice?”

“For the swelling.” And then he leaves like he hasn’t just planted all these vivid images in Dean’s mind. 

A touch on his shoulder almost makes Dean jump out of his skin. He turns to find a pair of very blue, very confused eyes staring at him from much closer than he’s comfortable with after the things he’s just been imagining. 

“Dean?”

“Cas.” He almost winces at how breathless he sounds.

“Sam said you would help me.” 

“Uh, yeah. Look, man, I’m not sure what kind of help you need from me here, but--”

“I don’t know how to do this.” 

Dean runs a hand over his face. He’s so not ready to have this conversation. Ever. “What makes you think _I_ do?”

“Have you never been hit with a sex curse?”

“Yeah, but-- you know what, never mind.” He kicks off his shoes and sits cross-legged on the bed facing his friend. “Okay, why don’t you sit at the foot of the bed? Then you can put your feet up on the edge. That might work.” 

Cas throws the sheets off –Dean doesn’t look, he _doesn’t_ – and shuffles to the end of the bed, sitting with his feet on the floor first and then pulling them up. “Like this?” 

“Yeah,” Dean says, and he’s so very grateful that he’s behind Cas at the moment so he can’t see everything that the former angel has just exposed because then it’d be _real_.

Sam walks in at precisely that moment, ice-cube tray in his hands, and Dean can see him do a double-take by the door. He recovers quickly, though, and goes get a fresh glove and the lube before he kneels by the foot of the bed right between Cas’ legs like having an asshole just inches from his face is an everyday thing.

“This position is no longer as comfortable as it was moments ago,” Cas says. 

“Too much stress on your abs?” Sam asks. Without waiting for an answer, he adds, “Dean, would you sit behind him and help him hold himself up?” He sounds tired and bored (bored!) with the whole thing. 

Without giving himself time to think about it and decide to bolt, Dean moves behind Cas as instructed, placing his socked feet on the cold floor. His hands go to Cas’ shoulders and urge the other man back until Cas is resting against Dean’s chest. Cas relaxes a bit, Dean feels it in the way the tiny gap between their bodies closes; he’s letting Dean support most of his weight now. The shift in position makes Cas slide a bit down, ass now perched on the very edge of the mattress – or so Dean imagines, because he’s definitely _not_ going to look down. 

“Cas, I’m going to put some ice on you to get the swelling down a bit, okay? It’ll help make everything less tight.” 

You know when somebody tells you “don’t look behind you” and your head automatically turns to look? Dean wasn’t going to, really, but now his eyes are watching his brother’s gloved hand holding an ice cube, and right next to it is Cas’ hole –yep, swollen all right– and right next to _that_ is Cas’ dick, soft and curved lying in a nest of dark curls. Dean swallows and the sound of it feels loud in the cramped space between them. 

He watches raptly as Sam moves the ice cube towards Cas’ asshole, going slower and slower as if approaching the event horizon of a black hole, and Dean is lost in his own mind imagining Cas swallowing the ice whole, then Sam’s fingers next, then Sam’s hand--

Cas’ knees snap closed, body jerking hard enough that Dean has to grab the mattress for support. 

“Damn it,” Sam hisses through gritted teeth. 

“I’m sorry! It’s cold!”

“Dean, hold his legs open, will you?”

Oh, _will he_. It’s both horrifying and mouthwatering at the same time when he places his hands behind Cas’ knees and pulls until Cas unlocks them and spreads them back open. Dean holds him like that, bent practically in half between Dean’s thighs as Sam puts the ice cube back against Cas’ hole. Cas is trembling, legs pulling against Dean’s restraining hold, sweaty temple rubbing against Dean’s cheek. He jerks again when the ice touches his skin, but this time Dean holds him open for Sam. 

“The cube’s melted enough,” Sam says. “I’m gonna try to insert it now, okay? It’ll numb you a bit.” 

It’s glorious to watch the ice disappear inside Cas guided by the tip of Sam’s index finger. Cas is breathing heavier, still shaking like a leaf, tiny whimpers escaping his throat that Dean only catches because their bodies are so close together. 

Water trickles out of Cas’ hole as the ice melts. It’s obscene. 

“Let’s try again, Cas. It should hurt less now.”

Maybe his brother sounds a bit breathless too, or maybe Dean is projecting, but Sam’s expression as he inserts a lubed finger inside Cas is unquestionably closer to fascination than before. Dean can’t blame him; if it looks enticing from Dean’s position, it must be riveting from Sam’s. 

Sam pushes the finger further in and, still being allowed easy access thanks to Dean’s efforts, starts wriggling it, feeling inside Cas for god knows what. Oh, right, for signs of a sex curse. It’s hard to focus with a sweaty ex-angel panting and squirming between your legs. It’s also not helping that Cas is getting hard. 

“Wait-- wait!” 

Sam stills his finger but doesn’t pull it out. “Cas, don’t worry about it. It’s normal. Just ignore it and it’ll go away.”

“It doesn’t feel like it’s going to go away if you keep... _probing_.”

“I promise I’ll be as quick as I can.” Without waiting for an answer Sam starts the examination again. Castiel throws his head back to rest on Dean’s shoulder. 

“Two fingers now, okay Cas?” Sam asks, and it’s both Castiel and Dean that tense up at that. “Just relax and let it happen.” 

The second finger slides in slowly but without resistance. Dean chances a look at Cas’ face; his friend has his eyes screwed shut so tight that the skin around them has gone pale, and his mouth is open in a silent “O”. Cas’ back pushes hard against Dean and his hands fly to Dean’s knees, gripping tight. Dean just wishes he would stay still so that he won’t accidentally brush against Dean’s crotch and feel the erection under the denim there, because it’s one thing for the patient to get hard during a rectal exam –that’s normal, it happens sometimes, or so Dean’s been told– but it’s entirely different when it’s the examiner. Or, in this case, the assistant.

Dean looks back down and finds his brother staring at Cas’ face, too. Sam’s fingers are pumping in and out now, no longer exploring, his ungloved hand resting on the place where Cas’ ass cheek meets thigh. Cas is a mess, dick painfully hard now and dripping, lube smeared all over his ass, skin slippery with sweat, toes curled.

“Please,” Cas gasps out, and Dean is contemplating whether they are taking this too far when he begs again, “Please... _harder_.”

Dean pulls Cas’ legs farther apart, and Cas reacts by digging his fingers harder into Dean’s knees, a whimper escaping his mouth. Sam just stares, no change in his movements.

“Please, Sam... Dean...”

It lights something up inside Dean, this plea of Cas that includes him as if he were participating more than just as human restrains. “Sammy,” he breathes out, not sure what he wants from his brother but wanting it all the same.

Sam’s eyes meet his. Dean can feel the wordless communication being exchanged between them even though he’s not clear what exactly is being said. He wonders if his own pupils are as blown as Sam’s, if his brother can read the need that must surely be written all over his face. Then Sam licks his own lips, catches the bottom one between his teeth, and twists his wrist. Castiel lets out a keening sound and his hips start undulating; he’s fucking himself on Sam’s fingers and it’s mesmerizing, hypnotic. 

Someone is speaking. It takes Dean a moment to realize it’s him. “Come on, Cas. Come on, like that, come on--”

“I c-can’t.”

“Yeah, Cas, you can, please...” 

Cas digs his fingers harder on Dean’s knees. He’s panting, writhing on Dean’s lap like he’s got live wires up his ass instead of fingers. His sweat is soaking through his shirt and onto Dean’s. Everything is wet and hot and tight and hovering over the edge, Dean can practically taste it, his own ass clenching rhythmically. With a particularly vicious thrust of Sam’s fingers Cas slides against Dean and his back makes contact with Dean’s clothed cock, making Dean instinctively pull on Cas’ legs as his own body jerks with sensation, folding Cas further onto himself so that the former angel can almost reach his own cock with his mouth. 

The image burns itself into Dean’s mind and now he _has_ to see it. He pulls harder and presses himself against Cas’ back and neck at the same time, trying to bend Cas just a little bit further, just an inch more. Cas’ body gives suddenly, and when Dean looks at Sam he sees that his brother has put his hand under Cas to push the man’s ass up that extra bit. They work in wordless synch to position their friend between them until Cas’ lips are touching his own cock.

“Lick,” Dean commands, and Cas obediently opens his mouth and sticks his tongue out. His eyes fly open at the sensation but he shuts them almost right away, like he can’t take the sight in front of him. _Very_ in front of him. 

“Deeper,” Sam says as he pushes Cas’ ass further, fingers creating dimples on the soft flesh of the man’s thigh. It’s the first word Sam’s spoken in what feels like ages and his voice sounds rough and low in a way Dean can’t remember hearing before from his brother. _It’s his sex voice_ , Dean’s brain supplies with what little blood it’s got left, and it’s dirty and forbidden and wrong and it drives him wild with something he cannot name but he _needs_. 

Cas is sucking in earnest now, moaning around his own cock, sandwiched between Dean and Sam with his feet in the air. It’s probably the hottest thing Dean’s ever seen. 

Cas stretches his neck even more, trying to take himself further in it seems, but he has no control over the depth or even the rhythm of the thrusts. That power is Sam’s only now. Each push of his brother’s hand provides blissful pressure on Dean’s cock and he can feel himself approaching orgasm fast. “Sammy, _please_.”

The plea is barely out of Dean’s mouth when Cas’ body seizes up, cock visibly pulsing between his lips. Dean leans back a bit to ease the pressure on Cas and watches as the former angel’s cock slips out of his mouth and starts spurting come all over Cas’ face. 

With that, Dean is gone. His hips push hard against Cas as he lets orgasm overtake him, every single muscle in his body pulled tight against the overpowering feeling. He comes harder than he’s come in a long time, and it’s over quickly. A growled “fuck” reaches his ears and he opens his eyes to the sight of his brother furiously jerking his own cock with his gloved, lubed hand. His left one still holds Cas in the same uncomfortable position, and his cheek is resting on the inside of one of Cas’ thighs, eyes closed and mouth open, tongue peeking out to lick the sweat off of Cas’ skin. Dean’s cock shoots one more spurt of come inside his pants at the sight. 

“Fuck,” Sam says again, and then he’s coming, painting the floor and the side of the bed with pearly white come. 

They stay like that for a moment, all three of them in that knot of limbs, until Cas starts disentangling himself. Dean lies down on the bed and Cas goes with him, then rolls to lie on his side next to Dean, legs still pulled up in a fetal position. His friend’s eyes are closed. 

Dean feels a pressure on his knee and cranes his neck to see that it’s Sam’s head. His brother is resting his brow against him, face hidden from Dean. 

This was a fuck-up of epic proportions, Dean decides. Later they’ll have to face one another again and _talk about it_. But for now they can bask a few more minutes in the afterglow.


End file.
